


John Rambo, Raymond Tango and Other Sly Character Shorts

by KindListener



Category: Judge Dredd (1995), Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Rambo Series (Movies), Tango & Cash (1989)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Blood and Injury, Choking, Ex Sex, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Lazy Mornings, Locker Room, M/M, Makeup Sex, Masturbation, Morning Sex, Morning Wood, Multi, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rimming, Romantic Fluff, Rough Oral Sex, Straight Razors, Suit Kink, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27441463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindListener/pseuds/KindListener
Summary: Status:Unfinished.Pairing(s):Rain x John Rambo, Raymond Tango x Reader, Rambo x Reader, Joseph Dredd x ReaderWarnings:Dub con, watersports, injury detail, blood, characters suffering from PTSD.Summary:A series of partially completed or completed shorts for various Sylvester Stallone characters.
Relationships: Joseph Dredd/Reader, Kabal (Mortal Kombat)/John Rambo, Rain (Mortal Kombat)/John Rambo, Raymond Tango/Reader
Kudos: 7
Collections: Hyperfixation Collection





	1. Soldier Boy ♡ John Rambo x Kabal

"I'm takin' you off the board." He's a super soldier, coming out of the woodwork with his bandanna, his fluffy hair and his manly stubble. Christ, Kabal can almost smell the scent of blood and gun metal from twenty meters away. The Black Dragon mercenary steps up, swinging out his hook swords with a chuckle.  
"Give it your best shot, soldier boy." He replies easily, sparks flying as he locks the blades together.  
"It'll be right between the eyes." Comes the ever-tough-guy retort. Kabal can't kill this guy. Kano would love him turned into a Black Dragon. How easy that would be though; he's not sure.

Kabal rushes in, swinging for him, but finds him rock-solid. The guy knows how to put up a good defence. He lands a good hit when he stabs the merc in the leg, blood pouring onto the sand. A punch to the centre of his chest, then a kick sending him flying backwards. He doesn't taunt, doesn't joke, doesn't laugh. No stupid quips or insipid jokes. He's quiet, mysterious, brooding. It's odd...but intriguing. Kabal tries again, hook swords spinning quickly as purple smoke envelopes him. If the soldier is surprised by his abilities, he doesn't let it show, taking up a strong stance to deflect the oncoming attack. With the mercenary tripping back a step, John slashes under his ribs, kicking him back again. He steps back to gather himself for a moment before he feels the ground beginning to give way beneath his feet, air greeting his frame as the world seems to fall in slow motion.

Landing on his ass, Kabal watches the soldier approach the lip of the ditch. It's high, probably double his own height and the merc has to commend him for his tenacity.  
"You comin' down to finish me off?" Kabal asks, knowing full well that this hole will barely fit the two of them. "Only a coward kills an opponent from so far away." The merc adds with a sneer. He takes the bait, jumping down into the pit, knife drawn. When he lands, the mercenary knows he only has a split second before the soldier will be up and running again. He has to use this window to deliver a terrifying blow. Something that'll stop him in his tracks.

Kabal rushes up to him, hands over John's broad shoulders, pressing him against the wall of the pit. He's wide-eyed and snarling, dark eyes consumed with rage, but then the mercenary has his lips pressed up against his, firm and sure. Surprisingly, it earns him more than just a window for a sneaky stab. The soldier practically melts into his arms, a surprised but pleased hum rumbling through his chest. Kabal can't find it in him to pull away, groaning as one of his hands thread into the soft, dark locks of his hair. His lips are so soft, maybe a little dry, but they press against the Black Dragon's own so perfectly. Strong arms wrap around his waist, pulling him into an embrace that's all too warm and all too affectionate. Almost as if he's been wanting this... This contact for so long.

Pulling lightly at John's hair as it falls between his fingers, Kabal pulls him closer, pressing his tongue into the soldier's mouth. Low, deep moans rumble against the swordsman's lips and he finds himself committing more and more to this 'attack strategy'. His touches are soft, fingers calloused and scarred, gently pressed between Kabal's shoulder blades. He's slow and unsure, not like anything the swordsman has felt before. The pain that stems across his leg and from his abdomen burns in his veins as he allows the tables to turn, the slightly taller man pressing him against the opposite wall, hands coming up to frame the mercenary's neck. Blood pulses rapidly in his veins as he feels the soldier's hands come to rest along his collarbone but they barely move after that, his thumb rising to trace soft incline of Kabal's adam's apple. He's touch-starved, plain and simple. Who knows how long it's been since he touched a person?

Both heavily armed and highly dangerous men groan headily, hands beginning to wander and skin growing heated. One of Kabal's hands, the one in his hair, moves down to palm at the soldier's chest through his vest as he continues to kiss him, laving his tongue against the taller man's bottom lip, requesting entry. The touch sends a shiver racing up John's spine as he parts his lips, accepting Kabal's tongue into his mouth. It must've been a long while, considering he went from 'I'll kill you' to 'I'll fuck you' within a few seconds.

After worshipping his chest for a while, Kabal pulls away he watches the way John's eyes have glazed over, lidded and dark, from their little bit of rough and tumble. Something's poking into his hip, it's hard and pulsing against him. The swordsman lets his hand trail over his sternum and down his abdomen to cup the growing bulge at the front of the soldier's combat pants.  
"You been gettin' lonely, soldier boy?" Kabal purrs, lips only centimetres from John's own. The taller man doesn't give an answer, only a breathless groan as the swordsman squeezes him through his pants. He's obviously not used to this type of treatment (any kind of touch seems foreign to him). When Kabal reaches with his other hand to softly grasp his jaw, John seems to fall under his spell, rolling his hips up against his hand. "You like that?" The mercenary asks and the soldier nods, grabbing Kabal's shoulders to pull him down to the floor.

Rolling around in the dirt, the two don't have much room to move, Kabal falling against his solid chest, corded with muscle. He doesn't have long to think about their situation though because John's hungry for blood, pulling the swordsman against him. That kiss must've awoken something deep within him; something dark, something ravenous. He kisses Kabal eagerly as the swordsman straddles him, boots grinding into the dust. Large, warm, calloused hands tear open Kabal's coat, exposing his torso to the warm air. Looking up at Kabal, John palms at his chest, running his fingers over every puckered scar before tracing his a fingertip over the bleeding gash in the swordsman's abdomen. The soldier looks up at him with obvious concern but Kabal shakes his head; he's had worse. Thankfully, the slash had only grazed him, not cutting deep so blood just prickles to the surface. Curling his fingers into John's vest, the swordsman pulls him up, claiming his lips again as the soldier's cock twitches up against him. Strong arms wrap around the Black Dragon's shoulders, dragging him down to plant his hands either side of the soldier's head to keep himself up.

John's hands grow more adventurous, snaking down the swordsman's back, under the waistline of his pants, cupping his ass and squeezing the tender flesh there. At the contact, Kabal breaks from the kiss, a hoarse moan pulled from his throat. Their breath comes quick and heavy as they stare each other down, words going unsaid between them that hang in the air.  
"Hahh... Hahh..." Kabal breathes heavy and pushes back against John's hand as a second one joins it, both hands squeezing at his ass as the larger man watches the swordsman writhe and whine in his lap. The harshness of the contact reminds Kabal of his time with Kano, his soft, gentle, teasing touches followed by harsh, relentless squeezing or slapping or fucking.

When Kabal shudders above him, John shuffles back a little, propping himself up against the wall of the pit so he can press gentle kisses to the swordsman's broad, muscular shoulders.  
"Looks like I'm not the only one." He murmurs, voice deep and low as it seeps into the Black Dragon's ear.  
"... Thought you'd be an easy target." Kabal breathes, gazing down at the soldier through eyes hazy with lust.  
"And now?"  
"Now... I'm not so sure..."

John's skin is hot to the touch, Kabal notes, as he pulls his vest over his head. His entire body is aching to be touched, licked, kissed. It's insane. He's so needy but he's holding himself back, such brute strength hiding behind soft caresses and quick kisses. The swordsman leans down to press fleeting kisses across the exposed skin, across his chest, across his shoulders, barely scraping his teeth across the swell of his adam's apple. John's breath catches in his lungs, hands shifting to Kabal's hips, grinding up against his hot body.  
"Fuck..." The larger man's hands have slid to the front of his pants, unbuckling his belt to feel the swordsman's cock through his briefs. "Sure are handsy, soldier boy..." The mercenary huffs out as he grinds down against John's hand. He stays quiet, latching his mouth onto the skin of Kabal's throat, sucking a mark into the flesh there and drawing a mewl from the swordsman's lips. Older, fading bruises mark his neck and John can identify them by their shape; mouth, rope, leather (belt or otherwise), etc.  
"You're used to the rougher stuff, hm?" John asks, voice cold in direct contrast to the soft, warm touches he's lavishing upon the Black Dragon.  
"Y-Yeah..." Both fear and excitement shine in the swordsman's eyes.

In a swift movement, the soldier stands, hand around the back of Kabal's skull as he pulls the Black Dragon between his feet.  
"Show me what you can do." He murmurs deeply and Kabal nods, reaching up to unbuckle his belt, unbutton his combat pants and shove his dark grey briefs down to uncover the huge appendage. The soldier's cock is a good nine inches with enough girth to go around, cut. The swordsman licks his lips, sucking in a breath before licking a wet stripe along the underside, from the base to the crown. It drags a low groan from the larger man before him. Long, strong fingers thread into his slicked back hair, slowly inching him forward until his full lips touch the crown, already slick with precome. Expertly, Kabal takes the first few inches into his mouth, gag reflex perfectly trained to take him down to the root. With one hand in the mercenary's hair and the other braced against his shoulder, John presses the back of his head against the wall of the trench. A choked-out groan leaves him as he bites at the inside of his mouth, trying to keep himself quiet. That being the case, he can't stand the pleasure of Kabal's mouth around his cock, his mouth, throat and tongue all wrapped around his aching flesh so perfectly. He's talented but John could say that about anyone after not getting laid for a good few years. His nails dig crescents into Kabal's shoulder as he's already nearly as his peak. He huffs out groans, toes curling in his boots as the swordsman begins to bob his head. Precome spills down the Black Dragon's throat and he looks up at the soldier, dark eyes full of unspoken promises. He can feel the rapid beat of Kabal's pulse around his cock, now slick with saliva. When John's nails break the skin, Kabal backs off, groaning as he pulls his mouth from around the larger man's dick.  
"Pretty good, huh?" When he looks up to see the soldier completely dishevelled, cheeks flushed a dark pink as he tries to catch his breath. Hauling Kabal up by his shoulders, John spins them round to kiss him forcibly, tasting his own flesh on the swordsman's tongue. The Black Dragon wraps a hand around his hot flesh, slick with spit, slowly working the shaft.  
"You gonna come for me, soldier boy?" He sighs when they part.

The larger man turns Kabal round, bending him over to press his cock to the Black Dragon's clothed ass. He dispenses with his clothes easy enough, shoving down the swordsman's pants and landing a large, warm palm over one cheek, giving it a rough, customary squeeze before sliding the crown against the speed demon's rim.  
"Fuck, soldier boy... If you're gonna fuck me, then just do it." He groans, throwing a look back at John. Roughly, the soldier slides his entire length into Kabal's body, his girth stretching him out as the mercenary instinctively arches his back. "F-Fuck, yeah...!" All he gets from the larger man behind him is huffed breaths as he presses his broad, muscular chest to the swordsman's back, strong arms wrapped around his midsection. Kabal's insides are hot and tight, his body tightening considerably when John reaches down to tuck a hand into the Black Dragon's boxer-briefs. "Mmn...! Fuck, yeah, that's good..." The larger man fully wraps a hand around Kabal's cock, feeling it hot and pulsing in his palm. Taking a moment to spit into his palm, the larger man begins to move his hips at a relentless pace.


	2. Sunday Morning ♡ John Rambo x Reader

Blinking slowly, you turn over, turning to face the man beside you. A night without nightmares, rare but always nice. John looks so calm when he's asleep. Warm, orange light filters all around the room through the gauzy, white curtain. His lips are slightly parted and he breathes deeply, an arm wrapped protectively around your side. His fluffy hair is splayed out against the pillow, beige sheets pooled around his narrow hips as he turns over, squeezing you closer to him. His embrace is warm and inviting, breath hot against your forehead as his legs tangle with your own. You smile warmly, folding your arms against your chest as you press your cheek to his sternum.

Outside, mourning doves chirp, a light rain begins to fall and the wind rustles through the crisp, autumn leaves. Inside, you hear the even sound of John's breathing and the slow beat of his heart. This natural orchestra almost sends you back to sleep but you're kept awake by the warmth of the sunlight streaming through the window, painting the man beside you in vibrant oranges and rich browns. He looks so peaceful, so content.

Reaching up, you brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and he stirs slightly, keening up into the warmth of your hand as it touches his face. He sighs, one of his hands falling to your hip, his weathered thumb tracing the crest of your hip. Slowly, you ease your thigh over his hip and he hums gently, breath ruffling your hair as you feel something twitch against your crotch. What must he be thinking about? What is he dreaming about?  
"Mmnn..." He moans softly as you stroke down his chest, your fingertips barely touching the skin. His breath catches a little in his throat as his eyes flutter open. "... Good morning." He rasps out and you smile up at him, tilting your head up to kiss him.  
"Good morning." His lips are plush and soft, if not a little dry, as they press against yours. The kiss is chaste and gentle, one of his hands cupping the back of your head to pull you closer. When you part, you find your fingers inching toward the waistband of his boxer-briefs and he grasps your wrist, catching you in the act.  
"Oh, no, you don't." He murmurs softly, the ghost of a smile quirking at his full lips.

Gently, John turns you over so your back is pressed flush to his chest, his clothed, thickening erection grinding up against your ass. One hand holds your hip, occasionally giving your ass a firm squeeze as he rocks his hips against you. His lips are just by your ear, breath passing over your neck like a hot, humid summer breeze. He's hot and thick, pressed up against you as he is, and you can feel the dampness of precome oozing into the material of his underwear. His clothed cock slides against the curve of your ass and you can hear him trying his best to keep it together. You reach between your legs, wrapping your fingers around your own cock. Arching your back, you huff out a moan as you run your palm against the heated flesh, drawing a shaky breath from the larger man behind you. You know how much he loves hearing you get off, watching your eyes roll back as you lose yourself in pleasure. A choked out curse is breathed against your ear as he grips onto your hip, almost like he's clinging on for dear life. He's unaware of his strength, fingertips digging in bruisingly hard as he rolls his hips against your ass, hearing you moan airily beside him.  
"You sound...perfect, like that." John sighs against your ear, breath held in his throat.

Turning onto your back, you're treated to the sight of John over you; cheeks ruddy, lips parted and breath coming quick and shallow as he gazes down at you. He runs his fingers over your thighs, encouraging them to fall open before his eyes. Your own cock lays on your belly, precome slicked down the shaft and your fingers coated in saliva to ease the slide. He drinks in the sight of your body laid out for him, bare for him, your form painted in orange and yellow. Tilting your hips up, you reach for the lube, coating your fingers before sliding them past your rim. He's entranced, watching your fingers scissor in and out to prepare yourself for his brutal cock. Your body opens up so easily for him, your body already used to taking his cock as you ready yourself for him. Another spurt of precome oozes from within his underwear, spreading the damp patch further.

Once you're ready, you wipe your hand clean on the sheets, fingers curling into them as you ready yourself for his cock. John palms at your thigh, lifting it as he slides his hand from your mid-thigh to under your knee, holding your body open for him. He slots his body into place, like fitting together a jigsaw puzzle. His hands plant either side of your head to keep himself up as he works the head in, slowly sliding in to let you get adjusted to the girth of his cock. You bite your lip, mewling softly as he sinks his length deeper into your body, throbbing hot and wet around his flesh. Once he's fully inside, you sigh, looping your arms around his neck to bring him down for a kiss. The weight and heat of his body is so welcoming as he draws back about halfway, slowly thrusting up into your body as he tries his best to stay in control of his instinct to just wildly buck into you. The head of his cock grinds against your prostate and you moan against his lips before he pushes up, watching you with bleary eyes as he fucks you. One of your hands comes between you, wrapping around your cock to jerk at it roughly.

It doesn't take long before you're coming, body tightening around him as your heart races. Your fingers tighten around his muscular shoulder blade and the back of his neck as come spurts between your hot bodies, his name on your lips. You shake and shiver in his arms as you bring him to his peak. Groaning softly, he bows his head into the crook of your neck, stilling as he bottoms out one last time, flooding your insides with huge amounts of thick, sticky white. Hyperventilating, he stays there for a few moments before moving his head to your chest, allowing you to pet his hair gently. He huffs breaths against your chest, sucking in a breath whenever he feels your body clench or shift around his overstimulated cock.  
"Good boy... That was perfect, sweetheart..." You sigh as you stroke his hair and the back of his neck, your own pulse falling to a slow rhythm with John's ear pressed to your chest.

With his cock still nestled inside you, you feel him wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a hug as he rolls over so he's on the bottom. Gasping at the appendage falling limp within you, you lean back, studying his face; glowing from a light sheen of sweat as the morning light reflects off his skin, cheeks flushed with colour, lips parted and eyes lidded.

Perhaps you shouldn't get out of bed today.


	3. Getting Him Back ♡ John Rambo x Reader

You didn't expect John to come waltzing back into your life like nothing happened but you can't really say no when he stumbles up to your door, covered in blood, looking at you like a deer in headlights.

Sitting him down in the bathroom, on the edge of the bath, you run some hot water into the sink and grab a sponge. The water will be stained cherry red in a moment. You snip off what's left of his vest and peel it away from his body. The sponge soaks up some of the water and you start at the gash across his collar. It's relatively deep but it bleeds a lot. When you press the damp sponge to his skin he gasps, a low sound leaving him.  
"What've you done now, John...?" You sigh, more to yourself than to him. You squeeze the sponge over the sink before repeating the process, dampening it and pressing it to one of his wounds, wiping up the blood that drips down his torso. His fingers tighten on the edge of the bath as he tries to sit still. The cuts and bruises look very sore when all the blood is wiped away and you reach for the first aid kit under the sink.

It's been three years since you last saw him. As far as you can remember, he didn't want to see you either so this really must be a last-ditch effort.

The scars that litter his chest, you have a hard time holding yourself back from touching them, your fingers following the time-honoured tradition. Instead, you reach for the forceps and kneel down. The bullet in his side won't be doing him any favours. Unfortunately, it didn't pass all the way through so there's a bullet wedged into his side.  
"Deep breath for me." You murmur softly and he sucks in a breath as you slide in the forceps, taking a moment to grasp the bullet. "Now, breathe out for me." He lets it out and you tug the bullet free with a quick twist. Pressing the sponge to the wound to staunch the bleeding. When it's stopped bleeding, you tape some gauze over the wound and stick some butterfly stitches over his other cuts.

You pack away the first aid kit and turn to the sink, pulling the plug and watching all the blood swirl down the drain. John gets up, bandaged up and limping slightly.  
"You're staying the night." You announce, wiping down the sink. He doesn't say anything just looks at you as you focus on cleaning the sink. He knows you too well, just as you know him. "Take my bed for the night."  
"No, I--"  
"You can and you will." You answer sternly and he nods, resigning himself, as he makes his way to your bedroom.

He looks like he hasn't eaten in days. You quickly walk into the kitchen and pick up a can of soup, pouring it into a saucepan and cutting up a few slices of bread. You hear him sit down on the side of your bed and sigh deeply. After a few minutes, the soup is boiling so you pour it into a bowl and take it, and the bread, to your room. As soon as he sees it, he looks hungry and you're pretty sure he would wolf down whatever you give him. He makes quick work of the soup and the bread, sighing warmly as exhaustion and relaxation take over him as he places the empty bowl on the nightstand.

A stab of pain twists in your heart as he stares at his bruised and bandaged body in the mirror. Softly, you reach up to ruffle his hair and he gasps, a ragged moan leaving his lips. You pull your hand away and he stares down at his feet, colour painting his cheeks. He's hurt, in more ways than one. You replace your hand, gently running your fingers through his soft hair and hearing him breathe shakily, his fingers tightening in the sheets.

There hasn't been a night where you haven't thought about him, not in the three years he's been gone. You should kick him to the curb; whatever he gets, he had coming to him. Instead you kneel behind him and wrap your arms around his chest, holding him close but being careful not to squeeze too tight. He leans back into your touch, his large, warm hands placed over yours hesitantly. He gently takes one of your hands into his own, tracing his fingers across your palm. You lift your head skimming your lips across the crook of his neck and he shivers, eyes fluttering closed as he finds himself trapped in your warm embrace. You press a kiss behind his ear and a choked back sob shakes his body. They've broken him.

Twining your fingers into his, you let your other hand palm lightly against his jaw and neck. He swallows thickly and you feel his adam's apple bob beneath your fingers.  
"I've got you, sweetheart." You whisper, kissing the shell of his ear. He relaxes at your words, watching the way your hands inch across his torso, touching tantalisingly slowly as he tries his best not to make a sound. Your breath washes over his throat as you press kisses there, soft and fleeting. "You can let your guard down, baby, it's me." You sigh, peeking over his shoulder to watch him in the mirror. He groans shakily, as one hand slides down his side, avoiding all the bandages as you palm down his abdomen. As you run your thumb under the waistband of his pants, he bucks his hips upward, obviously wanting more attention. You pull back and encourage him to sit back against the headboard.

Straddling John's strong thighs, you watch the colour of his cheeks spread down across his neck and shoulders. You're careful not to disturb any of the bandages as you run your hands over his chest. He hums, craning his neck to give you more access to his body. Slowly, you lean in to press your lips to a puckered scar on the side of his neck and his hands fly to your hips, fingers tightening around your sides.  
"It's alright, John. I'm here now." You breathe into his ear and his hands crawl up to your shoulders, one rising a little further to cradle your head as he pulls you in for a kiss. You have plenty of time to stop him or to pull away but you can't bring yourself do it.

His kiss is hungry and desperate, his soft lips against yours, eager for the warmth of your body. He's hard beneath you and you roll your hips playfully only to be met with his fingers digging into the flesh of your shoulder warningly. You groan slightly against his mouth, both your hands coming to thread into his soft, feathery hair. The kiss brings everything back; the sleepless nights, the arguments, the angry, sweaty sex. It opens old wounds, poking at scars once thought healed, and you slowly lick your way into his mouth, your hands gently palming at his chest, fingers tracing the dips and swells of his shuddering body. His body is so responsive, so sensitive to your touch. He aches for it, yearns for it. He just can't put it into words.

You break the kiss and smile at John warmly before you get off him, rounding the bed to untie his boots and pull them off. He can't sleep in them, after all. You need to stop, need to tell him to leave but, before you know it, you're reaching for his belt, unbuckling it clumsily -- a little out of practise -- and unbuttoning his pants. If he has any objections, he doesn't voice them. He just averts his eyes as you push his combat pants down his thighs and toss them to the end of the bed. His cock is straining against his briefs, a damp spot by the head where he's been leaking, his desire only fed by your soft, soothing touches. When he's mainly bare to your eyes, you nod. You need to stop this. Need to get over him. Need to get out.

"Goodnight." You turn on your heel, heading for the door. You barely hear a thing but, as you approach the open door, you feel his hands grasp your shoulders, gently, carefully.  
"Don't." He manages, voice deep and low against your ear as he wraps his arms around you. His hair tickles your cheek, stubble scratching your neck. "Don't go." It's the only words he's spoken since he arrived. You have to blink back the tears before you open your mouth. There's no going back now.  
"Things have changed, John. I can't let myself fall under again. I just--" Your voice cracks as a sob wracks your body. Hearing you cry, he turns you in his arms. You make eye contact and it just makes more tears well up. The tears unspent, the words unsaid, the touches misread.

The kindness in John's dark eyes has tears falling down your cheeks as he holds you close. He doesn't know what else to do so he claims your lips, one hand cupping your jaw as the other holds your hand to his chest, his heartbeat fluttering beneath your palm. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you stand between his knees, kissing him fervently as he gently presses his tongue between your lips. Here, now, in this moment. You feel at peace, kissing the man you love. One of your hands dips down to gently trail up his inner thigh. He goes rigid before melting against you, moaning softly against your lips. Your hands drag against his thighs and he pulls back, eyes lidded and ravenous.  
"If you wanna go, I'll let you go. No questions asked." John breathes, hands warm and calloused as he cups your face. You shake your head, pressing kisses to the corners of his lips.  
"No... You came back. You knew what would happen if you came back." You reply, sniffling as he slowly leans back, running a hand absently through his hair and fluffing it slightly.  
"I came back for you." He states, grasping your hands and planting a kiss to every finger. That's it. That does it. You crawl into bed, turn off the lamp and hold his hand, pressing kisses to his cheeks as he holds you against him...

* * *

You wake up in the mid-afternoon with John's arms still wrapped around you. Glancing up, you can see he's staring blankly out of the window. You lean back on your elbow, slowly peeling off one of the bandages and seeing it's stopped bleeding mostly.  
"C'mon, lets get you showered and changed." You sigh, hauling yourself out of bed before helping him up.

Sat on the side of the bath again, John watches as you uncoil bandages, peel back tape and dump them all into the bathroom garbage can. Every so often, you hear him hiss or huff out a choked breath as you undress his wounds. Turning on the shower, you strip down and make sure that it's a nice, warm temperature before helping him in, after he drops down his dirty boxer-briefs.

The water falls across his shoulders and down his chest, dipping into wounds and over bruises as it goes. John groans at first, when the water first hits him, but after that he presses his back against the wall, allowing it to fall freely over his body. Blood swirls down the drain as you reach for the sponge and soap, dabbing it across his wounds to clean them thoroughly. Some have been clumsily sewn shut by him and you wince, watching blood seep from between the stitches. His skin just seems tender and painful due to all the trauma but he takes it in stride, cradling your face in his hands. Gently, you press your body to his, planting kisses across his neck and sighing softly when he wraps his strong, muscular arms around your waist.  
"I missed you." He breathes, just loud enough to hear over the shower.  
"You did?" You ask, looking up to brush your hands through his damp hair. He hums in confirmation.

Turning to press you to the shower wall, John dips down, capturing your lips as chastely as he can as you loop your arms around the back of his neck. You stroke the scars along his back, making him shudder and groan against your lips. Slowly, your tongue parts his lips, forcing another low groan from his throat as he huffs out a breath. His hands journey down, thumbs following the curves of your hip bones. Your skin is silky soft under his fingertips, palms inching down your thighs to part your legs. It's been too long.

"Thought about you all the time... Thought about our fights and how we didn't talk for a few hours... Thought about you and how much I care about you... Thought about this... How much I missed this..." He whispers breathily against your ear as he reaches to grab at your ass. "Can't remember how many times I thought about this..." In a show of strength, he hoists you against the wall and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, grinding up against his huge erection.  
"I missed you too, baby." You groan as he rubs his shaft against your aching rim. With you still wrapped around him, he lays you on the floor of the shower, towering over you before he leans down to kiss you. A large, warm hand holds both of your cocks together and he thrusts forward, hot flesh rutting against your own cock.

* * *

It's always nice having him back, snuggling on the sofa and (not really) watching some late-afternoon television.

John's so close, thighs nudging your own under the blanket as you move closer, nuzzling into his side. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you press one to his shoulder. There's the scent of blood, gun metal and sweat on his skin, even after the long, relaxing shower he had only an hour ago. You're at home with him by your side, his fingers gently brushing along your arm. His breath softly ruffles your hair, his skin so warm beneath his vest. He likes this, sat on the sofa, watching nothing, and just sat in each other's silent company.

Slowly, you slide your hand beneath the covers, fingertips trailing along the inside of John's strong thigh. His breath catches in his throat, hand tightening around your shoulder as you cup the appendage stirring in his tight boxer-briefs. He's going to tell you that you don't want that right now, that he's still cooling off from coming home. Despite how spic and span his body is, his brain is still drenched in the mud and the blood of war, anger and instinct still alive in his head. You're here to bring him back, to make sure he knows he's safe, to bring him back to the present; here with you.  
"I don't think that's a good idea..." John breathes, his cock twitching in your palm as you trace the outline of it in his clean underwear. You pull away and face him, running a hand through his hair as you press kisses to the corner of his mouth.


	4. Put in his Place ♡ John Rambo x Rain

The prince pulls off his mask, his lips pulled into a pout as he makes his way down to the river. Blood spatters across his robes and over his hands as he looks down at them in disgust. Setting his mask and headdress on a nearby rock, Rain kicks off his shoes and slowly parts his robes, his gorgeous, umber skin becoming bare to the air as he dips a toe into the water. It's colder than he usually likes but he guesses there's no substitute. Sinking into the water, he splashes his face and runs a damp hand through his dark, shoulder-length hair, pulling it out of its ponytail. There's a rustle in the trees, barely audible above the sound of the river. Turning on his heel, Rain looks into the foliage, shoulders tense and legs ready to pounce, like a threatened jaguar. When nothing appears, he returns to washing himself, sighing softly as he lets his hands roam over his body.

He's so wrapped up in himself that he doesn't notice the man behind him before he wraps an arm around his throat.  
"Wh--" He starts before his feet are lifted off the ground and a pair of lips is only an inch away from his ear.  
"Don't struggle...or this goes through your back." The prince is confused at first before he feels the tip of a blade pressed against the small of his back. He inhales sharply, lips twisting into a scowl.  
"Do you know who I--" Rain begins but John squeezes, his forearm damn near collapsing the prince's windpipe.  
"I know who you are. I know who your friends are. I know people want you taken out." The man behind him... His voice is low and quiet, like the rumbling growl of a crouching tiger, like rolling thunder before a monsoon.  
"But do you know what you're up against? If you kill me, there'll be an army after you." The prince laughs humorlessly and there's another squeeze around his trachea.  
"I'm not here to kill you, *your majesty*." The title is spoken with malice and it only makes Rain's frown sink further. "I'm here to deliver a message." Without picking up his clothes, his mask or his headdress, the larger man carries the prince into the brush of the forest.

Against the trunk of a thick tree, Rain is set on the floor, wrists tied behind his back before he can make a move.  
"And what is your message, then?" The prince demands, watching as the larger man stands to his full height, shoulders broad and eyes dangerous.  
"I'll make it clear. And then you can tell me." The larger man threads strong, weathered fingers into Rain's damp hair, pulling his head back roughly, letting the prince watch as he rubs the outline of his half-mast cock through his combat pants. "You're gonna learn how to take direction. You're gonna learn how to obey. You're gonna learn how to play nice." With his other hand, John grabs Rain's jaw and forces his mouth open, despite how the prince tries to keep his mouth shut. "You might even enjoy this if you do as you're told." Using his thumb to keep the prince's jaw open, Rambo uses his other hand to unbutton his pants and shove them out of the way, letting his huge cock stand proud. Rain's teeth dig into the knuckle and the larger man shifts his weight, the toe of his boot pressing down against the prince's cock and balls, feeling them twitch and thicken as he presses down. "You don't play nice, I pop your balls like grapes, got it?" He growls as he locks eyes with the Edenian who diligently begins to fellate his cock, eyes burning with hate as he tries to take Rambo's cock all the way down. He gags a little when the soldier grabs his hair and thrusts to the back of his throat, shoving (what feels like) a foot of hot, throbbing flesh past his lips. "So you *do* know how to take orders." His body is so warm and tight, Rain's dark eyes staring up at him as he begins to fuck his throat in earnest. Broken moans come from the prince's lips as he feels John's cock slide in and out of his throat, his cock hard and leaking as he tries to rut up against the soldier's boot. If Rambo feels it, he doesn't say anything as the Edenian ruts up against the toe of his shoe. Groaning headily, it doesn't take John long before he's ready to come, pulling out roughly to rub the head of his cock along the smaller man's bottom lip, glistening with a mix of saliva and precome. "Open wide, princess, and make sure you drink it all down..." The soldier sighs as the prince lets his mouth fall open, allowing John to watch as he spends, come shooting into the proud prince's mouth and oozing over his tongue. He swallows it down easily and John huffs out a breath as he cards a hand through Rain's damp hair. "What do you say after I give you a treat, hm?" Rain just cocks a brow but John is having none of that, grasping a handful of the prince's hair. "What do you say?" He asks again and Rain opens his mouth to murmur some biting reply but the soldier gets there first, spitting into the Edenian's open mouth before slapping him across the face. It drags a ragged moan from Rain's abused lips.  
"Th...Thank you, sir." He breathes and John nods.

As his cock softens a little, John drags the crown against Rain's bottom lip.  
"Good boy..." Biting his lip, the larger man brushes dark hair from Rain's eyes. "I've got a lot more to give you so settle in." After encouraging Rain to close his mouth, John pisses over his face, drenching his hair as he goes. It streams down the column of his neck and over his broad chest, making him gleam golden in the sunlight, dappled by the trees. The golden rings through the buds of his nipples drip with it and he rolls his hips up, adoring the degradation. "Mmnn... Good boy, stay nice and still." John groans, watching him revel in the attention. It just keeps coming, warm and thick, as it splashes over Rain's plush, pink lips, tumbling over his chin, down his neck, over his chest, down his abdomen and onto the dirt. Occasionally, the prince's tongue peeks out to taste; salty and warm and earthy. Another spurt of precome lands across the dirt as the Edenian arches his back, eager for more. When the stream lessens, Rain takes the head of the soldier's cock back into his mouth, tongue lapping at the head to catch any stray drops. Rambo shudders, groaning loudly as he indulges himself, hips dipping down to fuck the prince's throat once more.

Removing his foot, John nudges Rain's thighs apart, watching the prince's cock leak onto the dirt.  
"You like being treated like this?" He asks, grabbing the prince by the back of the neck and shoving his face into the dirt. "People aren't rough with you the way you want them to be." He notes, hearing the Edenian prince whine in confirmation as he kneels behind him, grabbing a handful of his beautiful, umber-hued skin. He slaps Rain's ass with a heavy hand, a large, red hand-print appearing on the soft skin there. The impact makes Rain gasp and bite at his lip, fingers clawing at the dirt. A few scars litter his back and Rambo leans down to drag his tongue across them, tasting sweat and piss on the proud Edenian's skin. His cock is hard again, the shaft hot and thick as it ruts up against Rain's eager hole. "You want my cock?" John growls, lips pressed between the prince's shoulder blades.  
"... Yes." He whines, pressing back against the soldier's cock.  
"Yes, what?" With another slap to his backside, the Edenian yelps and shivers.  
"Pl-Please?! Sir?" Nodding contentedly, John slicks his cock with saliva and pushes in, starting at a maddening pace. In, out, in, out, in, out. He's warm and tight inside and John finds it's difficult to hold back. Grabbing onto Rain's hips hard enough to bruise, he bucks into the warm body, groaning lowly as he feels the prince's insides coil tight around his cock. Gripping locks of Rain's dark hair, Rambo groans, a sheen of sweat beading across his bronzed skin.


	5. Welcome Back ♡ Raymond Tango x Reader

First day back in the precinct. You've been getting 'welcome back' and how was your holiday?' all day. It's nice to see who cares. Sat in your office, you watch the way the early January snow drifts onto your windowsill, overlooking the city. It was nice having the holiday but it's also nice to be back. You thought you would've heard from Tango, though--

*Knock, knock.*

Turning in your chair, you stare at your computer and note the surprising lack of paperwork to do.  
"Come in!" You call and Tango peeks his head in, closing the door behind him. "Ray, I thought you wouldn't drop by." You tease, standing and stepping up to him as he smiles warmly.  
"Well, I'm here." He tucks his hands into his pockets, moving his blazer out of the way and displaying his trim waist and broad shoulders.

It's the light grey suit, the one with the waistcoat that's fit just perfectly enough to show of how large his chest is. The blazer doesn't have any inserts or padding, his shoulders are just *that wide*, his arms also straining against the fitted fabric. The white shirt beneath is stretched across his chest, nearly to the point of the button holes popping open to accommodate for his size. The dark grey tie looks perfect tucked into the waistcoat, accentuated by the collar bar, making his chest look *even bigger*. His cock looks huge in those tight slacks, tucked to one side and looking like he stuffed a baseball bat down his pants. He goes to lean against the front of your desk, his shapely ass looking criminally good in those tight, grey slacks. You lock your office door as you watch him go.

"I know that sound. I can't stay that long. I haven't got time." He sighs, a hint of humour to his tone, eyes glinting behind his glasses. You slide up against him, palming down his chest, sliding his blazer off his shoulders as your fingers follow the bend of his neck.  
"I'm sure you can make your excuses, Ray." You whisper, pressing your forehead to his. Grabbing at his hips, you roll your own against him, watching him huff out a breath. Reaching across to grasp a handful of his cock and balls, you feel him twitch under your palm, cock thickening in his pants. "You're gonna have to make time..." You purr, your other hand moving up to cup his cheek. "You missed me this much, Lieutenant?"

Hastily kicking off his freshly polished shoes, you slide his slacks and briefs over his hips, slipping them over his muscular thighs before watching him sit on the desk as his legs fall open. He's so easy. His cock fills out beautifully, thick and lengthy, as you pull on his tie.  
"What do you want, Tango?" You ask teasingly, your other hand dancing over his inner thigh. He quickly brushes a hand through his hair, his pretty pink lips parted slightly as he moans. "Use your words, handsome." He goes bright red, embarrassment and lust clouding his vision behind his wire-frame glasses.  
"I want..." You slide a finger into your mouth, coating it with saliva before pressing the tip to his rim. He fucking *whines* and you damn near fall to your knees. "H-Hahh... I want you to..." He's out of practise and he's struggling. You pull close to his ear, your finger still tracing around his hole, as you whisper.  
"Want me to eat you out and fuck you on my desk, handsome?" He goes rigid and shivers before melting against you, nodding slowly.  
"Please..." He manages, voice breathless and barely audible.

Tugging him off the desk, you bend him over it, pressing his face to the wood as you pull up a chair. His bronzed skin looks all too gorgeous and you can't help but grab two handfuls of his perfect ass, hearing him groan headily as you knead the flesh between your fingers. Groaning, you lean down, taking in the warm scent of his skin before sliding your tongue against his hole. Hearing him sigh heavily before he gasps, glasses falling to the desk as he glances behind him. Sliding your tongue past the rim, you feel him tense and twitch around you.  
"That's...good..." He breathes, forehead pressing against the desk. He's grown tighter again so you'll need to get him used to taking your cock again. Pulling back, you slick your fingers with saliva, slipping in one digit and then another. You're able to reach a lot further inside him with your fingers.  
"You look good like this, Ray; all laid out for me and dripping all over my nice, clean floor." You sigh, scissoring your fingers in and out of his tight hole as he arches his back, trying to take your fingers deeper. Crooking your fingers expertly, you feel him leap under your touch, body shuddering as you draw your fingertips over his prostate. "Good boy, taking my fingers like a champ."  
"F-Fuck..." The curse is hushed and breathy but its there.  
"You want something bigger, handsome?" You ask, leaning back down to bury your face in his perfect ass.  
"Hahh... T-Take it easy, tiger... I'm not -- mmn... -- goin' anywhere." Ray murmurs as you press your tongue past his slackened rim. You grow more and more sloppy with your ministrations, saliva dripping down over his perineum and onto his balls before dropping to the floor, creating a small puddle beneath him. Eagerly licking and mouthing at his ass, you moan against his skin, feeling his thighs begin to tremble as his cock leaks precome onto the floor.

Pulling off, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, landing a quick swat to his ass before turning him over and positioning him perfectly on your desk. He looks so ruined already, cheeks flushed red and his eyes lidded with want. His cock looks so deliciously desperate, precome sliding down the shaft as he twitches in anticipation. Unbuttoning your slacks and pushing them down your thighs, you tease him, rubbing the weeping head against his slackened rim. Tango bites his lip and rakes his nails across the desk as you lean down to pepper kisses and bites all up the side of his neck.  
"You ready for me, Ray?" You purr against his skin.  
"I-I'm ready... Just...put it in already..." He sighs and you slide in the head before sliding in the rest of your length, feeling him tense and gasp. You still your hips when you've fully buried yourself inside him.  
"You want me to move or are you still getting used to it?" You ask genuinely, voice breathy as you try to keep a lid on your need to buck into him. Huffing out a long sigh, he nods shakily.  
"Move."

Immediately, you snap your hips back and forward, drawn in by the tight warmth of his insides.  
"Fuck, yeah, Ray...!" You pant out, driving up into his hot, wet body. Your office is soon filled with the sounds of skin on skin and moans as the windows steam up. "You like that, Tango? Tell me you love it..." You grasp onto his tie, making him look at you as you drive your cock into him.  
"F...Feels so good-- H-Hahh!" The Lieutenant's damn near crying, body overstimulated as you fuck him. Wrapping a hand around his weeping cock, you jerk him in time with your thrusts, precome easing the slide over his aching flesh. It's desperate and it's helpless and you adore every second of it. "Gonna... Gonna come...! Fuckfuckfuckfuck... Ahh!" Come spurts, thick and hot, over your fingers, most of it landing on Ray's abdomen but a little lands on his waistcoat.  
"Ray, I'm -- fuck, yes... -- gonna come inside..." As his body coils tight around you, you spill inside him, filling him up with come and painting his insides white. He grabs your chin, making you look at him as you spend deep inside him, eyes lidded and jaw slack.  
"You like that? You like filling me up, Detective?" He breathes heavily.  
"Y-Y-Yeah... Fuck, you feel so good, Ray..." After pulling out, you press your fingers in, crooking your fingers inside him, making him groan disjointedly, and collecting a good amount of your come. You pull your fingers out of him, making a show of it as you drip come onto your tongue, head thrown back.  
"You're disgusting, y'know that?" He chuckles breathily even though his limp cock twitches at the sight.

After making sure both of you look presentable and wiping the various fluids from the floor, you give Ray a quick kiss, fingers threading into the soft, dark hair at the back of his neck.  
"I missed you." He sighs and you nod, grabbing a handful of his ass and giving him a wink.  
"I misssd you too, big guy."


	6. Forward Judge ♡ Judge Joseph Dredd x Reader

The locker room is empty when you and Dredd come off duty so you find your opening and you take it.

He sheds himself of his helmet, shoulder garments and his uniform jacket, leaving him in just his tight pants, his vest and his boots. He flicks through what he has in his locker as you saunter up behind him, gently running your fingers down the back of his neck. With expert reflexes, he grabs you by the throat and presses you against the lockers beside his own, broad shoulders squaring. His choke hold is expertly tight, strong fingers tightening around your throat.  
"... D-Dredd. Let go." You struggle and he eases up slightly but doesn't remove his hand completely.  
"You put your hands on me. Do you know the sentence for assaulting a Street Judge?" Dredd asks and you try to remember but it's hard to think with oxygen running low and his body pressed so close. "Code two, section one; assault of a Judge, ten years." By this point, you don't know if he's joking or not. With it being Dredd, you suspect the worst.  
"On what grounds? I barely touched--"  
"But I may be persuaded to retract that sentence, should you provide ample reasoning." He adds and the penny drops. Dredd would never be party to anything involving bribery or persuasion. He's role-playing, out of the blue, completely unplanned. "If I find your reasoning unsatisfactory, you'll find yourself also facing code twenty-three, section three; manipulation of a Judge, five years." You nod quickly, growing light-headed even in his slackened grip.

Dredd removes his hand and you push off the lockers, kissing him hard. His lips are so plump and soft, tongue deft as it's pushed past your lips. Your hands go to his shoulders as you let him dominate you, his bare hands firmly palming across the back of your neck.  
"You can...have my body... Dredd, you...can do what...you want with it..." You murmur between kisses. He pushes you down to a bench between the lockers, landing you at eye level with his crotch.  
"You're the worst kind of scum; shameless and offering anything in exchange for your life, even your self-respect." Eagerly, you pop open his pants, watching his huge, half-mast cock and full, heavy balls fall out.

With his cock now bared to the air, Dredd twists his hand into your hair, encouraging you to take it into your mouth. He fills your mouth easily, his hot, pulsing flesh pushed like a brand against your tongue.  
"Shameless..." He breathes as your gaze shifts up to meet his. Your submissive stare only has him twitching in your mouth, precome flooding across your tongue. Gingerly, you try taking him into your throat, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. It's worth it though, Dredd shuddering and raking his nails against your scalp as he presses deeper into you. "If it was up to me, I'd lock you up just like this, servicing me for life as penance for your crimes." He breathes as you swallow around his cock, throat tight and hot. When your lips touch the very base, his eyes roll back briefly, revelling in the pleasure your mouth brings. Bringing up a hand, you palm at his balls, full and heavy, as your throat pulses around him. He's highly-strung, instinctive and eager. Desperately, his hips jerk back, breath quick and shallow. With the head poised at your lips, glistening with saliva, you feel precome dripping down your chin to pool on the floor. You look up at him with a proud grin, lapping at the head of his cock as you tease him. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're enjoying this."


	7. A Close Shave ♡ John Rambo x Reader

Sitting on the side of the bathtub, John balls his fists and rests them on his thighs. You wring out a towel soaked in warm water.  
"Are you sure you're ready?" You ask as you turn, the towel in your hands, steaming a little from the difference in temperature. He nods but his eyes seem uncertain. "Yeah?" He nods again as you stand between his thighs, pressing the warm towel to his stubbled jaw. He sighs into the warmth, groaning softly as the gentle touch lures him into comfort. "Is that nice, John?" You ask and he nods, eyes fluttering shut.  
"Yeah..." He breathes, the moisture and the warmth preparing his skin for the razor. You keep the towel there for as long as you can, procrastinating the hard bit.

Placing the towel on the side of the sink, you pick up your mug and your shaving brush, foaming the shaving soap in the mug before leaning forward to paint it across his face. Streaks of white foam are dragged across his jaw, slow and soothing.  
"You're still sure, John?" You ask again and he nods, swallowing thickly.  
"Yeah, I'm ready." He assure you and you nod, placing the mug down and reaching for the razor.

You pull over a stool, resting between his knees in order to get closer. You bring the razor into his field of view and his hands shake, trying to hold himself back.  
"Remember; I'm not going to hurt you, John." You assure him and he nods as you bring the blade down across his cheekbone. You pull down with a slow swoop and he huffs out a breath, gasping and holding another. Again and again, more of his skin becoming smooth, bronzed and perfect. Soon, the entire right side of his face is done. "You're doing so well, baby. I'm so proud of you." You tell him as you draw the blade down again. On the other side, he seems a little more comfortable, though he still holds his breath. "Gently does it, sweetheart." You coo and he's shaking, sweat beading across his brow. Swiping the blade across his sharp jawline, you concentrate, drawing it over a couple raised, puckered scars. When you move onto his neck, he huffs out a breath, eyes wide with fear and determination. As the blade skims dangerously over his adam's apple, he swallows thickly and you draw away to stop yourself from cutting into the skin. "Not long now." You whisper, doing the last few strokes before pulling away. Using the damp towel to wipe off any extra shaving cream, you reach for the aftershave, gently patting it onto his cheeks and down his neck.

When he's done, you place everything down and brush a hand through his hair soothingly.  
"All done, sweetheart." You tell him and he wraps his arms around your midsection, holding you tight as he silently demands to have your body closer. He smells of fresh pine and pink peppercorn now, the aftershave soaking into his skin. You pet his hair gently, raising his head so you can stoop down and capture his lips. He's still shaking, hands grappling for yours as you kiss him sweetly. "You did so well, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you." You murmur when you pull away, pressing kisses to the corners of his mouth.

The bath behind him is full with warm water, steam lingering on the surface. Helping him stand, you gently tug at his jock strap, pushing it down his strong thighs and then around his ankles where he can step out of it. His scars and bruises are stark on his skin, highlighting the way his muscles relax and contract as he steps over to the tub, sliding in easily. Rolling your stool a little closer, you grab a sponge and pump some soap into the palm of your hand, lathering the soap into the sponge with a dip of water. Starting to scrub at his back, you take care going over the scars, stroking softly as he sighs pleasantly. You reach between his shoulder blades, scrubbing down the length of his broad, muscular back. He arches his body and groans softly as you reach the small of his back. Reaching round, you begin to scrub down his chest, making sure to reach across his shoulders and under his arms.

John's body is sensitive and all too touch-starved. Every touch, especially down his chest and abdomen, make him shiver and huff with intense sensation.  
"H-Hahh..." As the sponge touches the angular crests of his hip bones, he curls his hands around the edge of the tub, white-knuckled.  
"Take it easy, sweetheart. If you want me, you got me." You assure him, stopping just short of his groin. He rocks his hips up, searching for more sensation, the top few inches of his cock twitching above the surface of the water. He's hard and leaking, whining softly as he places a wet palm over your spare hand. You encourage him to lean back, to relax, as you work your way down his body with just your hands.


End file.
